


Lessons in Control

by jouissant



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M, Object Penetration, mild D/s themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-25
Updated: 2010-03-25
Packaged: 2017-10-08 07:46:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jouissant/pseuds/jouissant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>PWP, Object penetration, very mild d/s, gratuitous use of four-letter words.</p><p>2/2/13: this has now been translated into Chinese by pharos710 at LJ, <a href="http://pharos710.livejournal.com/951.html">here</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Lessons in Control

**Author's Note:**

> PWP, Object penetration, very mild d/s, gratuitous use of four-letter words.
> 
> 2/2/13: this has now been translated into Chinese by pharos710 at LJ, [here](http://pharos710.livejournal.com/951.html).

Jim isn’t quite sure where he first got the idea. Maybe it’s the way Spock sounds during sex, the soft little _ah ah ah _he makes when Jim’s fucking him- he closes his eyes and bites his lip and tries his best to come in the most studiously Vulcan way possible…but that little gasp- Jim knows it’s really a scream. And it’s fucking hot. Jim tells him this, curls his fingers around Spock’s hipbones and thrusts harder and faster. “God, I love watching you come undone…love knowing I can do that to you…fuck, Spock, let go, come for me, that’s it-“  And a faint green blush spreads over Spock’s face, and he does.

 Reluctantly.

It’s been a few months, and Jim thinks he’s getting pretty good at reading Spock. The blush, the way Spock rolls away to collect himself after he comes- Jim knows embarrassment when he sees it. It’s not a big deal, Jim thinks. Hell, sex is probably one of the most awkward things in the universe when you really think about it. It’s _messy_, and Vulcans don’t really do messy.  He doesn’t take it personally. In fact, he finds it more than a little endearing, not to mention sexy as hell.

When a copy of the _Xanadu IX Pleasure Dome Reader_ shows up on a couch in the Deck 5 rec room, Jim wastes no time in confiscating it. As jack-off fodder goes, it’s classy stuff, lots of highfaluting, purple-prose “interspecies erotica” that Jim’s pretty sure is just glorified tentacle porn.  But it does have product reviews, and the _Enterprise_ just so happens to be pulling into a settlement for refueling, and that settlement just so happens to have a decent red light district (not that Jim’s ever been there or anything). And even if Jim can’t quite pin down where he got the idea from, it all of a sudden comes to fruition in the form of the Aneros MGX.

_______________________________________________________________________________

"Spock, how’d you get so good at meditation?” 

They’re playing chess when he brings it up, of course. He has to do this carefully, and Spock’s attention is on the dumbass move Jim just made on purpose.

"Captain?”

" I mean, you sit there for hours- I wouldn’t last 5 minutes with all the crap flying around in my brain.”

" Building a regular meditation practice takes years of dedicated study, Jim. As a child on Vulcan I was introduced to breathing exercises to focus the mind, and sat for meditation in gradually lengthening increments, starting at just a few minutes.”

"So what you’re saying is, practice makes perfect.”

 "Essentially, yes.”

______________________________________________________________________________________________

The look on Spock’s face when Jim outlines his proposed course of study is priceless. He’d laugh if it wasn’t so hot, the way the Vulcan’s face remains passive but for his eyes, which widen like saucers. And his Adam’s apple, which bobs up and down once, twice. Spock swallows. His eyes dart to the captain’s proffered palm, and he raises an eyebrow querulously. Jim knows he’s on dangerous ground. 

"Mr. Spock, there’s no question that your ability to control your emotions is unparalleled. But, not unlike meditation, I think there’s always room for additional practice.”

Spock’s voice is hoarse when he responds. “Are you proposing a further attempt to elicit an emotional response from me, Captain? If so, I feel I must object on the grounds that-“

"Shhhhh,” Jim stops him, raising a finger to his first officer’s lips to softly still Spock’s objections.

"As I’ve told you before, you’ve been called the best first officer in the fleet,” Jim continues in a low voice, smiling despite himself. “Surely a Starfleet officer of your caliber isn’t beyond a little continuing education. But if it makes it easier for you, Mr. Spock,” and Jim leans in to finish his sentence as a hot whisper across the shell of Spock’s ear,  “you can consider it an order.”  He nips at the earlobe. Spock flushes green and _shudders_. He drops his eyes and bows his head slightly, submissively. He takes the Aneros MGX from Jim’s hand and turns it over experimentally in his own. He is quiet for a long moment.

"Acknowledged, _Captain. _If I may, have you considered the duration and circumstances of my, ah, advanced study in control?”

"Duration? One Alpha shift, Mr. Spock. Beginning at 0600 hours. By my watch, that gives you…8 hours to prepare yourself in any way you deem necessary.

Spock lets out a little gasp, and opens his mouth as if to object. He seems to think better of it, though, and Jim just glimpses a faint upward quirk of his lips before Spock turns on his heel and leaves.  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________

 

In retrospect, Jim thinks, Spock probably wouldn’t have agreed if he’d known about the remote. But hindsight is 20/20, or 20/5 or whatever bionic vision Vulcans probably have.

Jim shoots Spock his best shit-eating grin when he arrives on the bridge, answered predictably by a terse nod from his first officer. Spock is already leaning over his console, and Jim almost, _almost_ feels bad when he reaches into his pocket and fingers the little button, because Spock is already moving gingerly this morning.

He’s looking studiously away from the science station when he hears a loud fit of coughing from that general direction. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Spock shifting his weight back and forth furiously. He doesn’t take his eyes off the viewscreen, but Jim can’t help but notice that the delicate points of Spock’s ears are suspiciously emerald. He bites back a smirk.  “Mr. Spock? Are you all right?” asks Uhura. Jim notes that Spock takes a good 22 point 83 seconds to reply. “Quite well, Lt. Uhura. I thank you for your concern, but assure you it is quite unnecessar-_ah_!- _unnecessary_ at this juncture.”

 At this, Jim smirks in earnest. He can’t help it. It’s going to be a great day. 

________________________________________________________________________________________________

When they talk about this later, Jim will tell Spock that this whole control thing was just as hard for him as it was for the Vulcan. Really. How’d you like to try and captain a starship the size of the _Enterprise_ with your lover full and stretched to bursting, practically coming in his regulation slacks a few feet across the bridge?  And, okay, it might be a little easier if Jim didn’t periodically fiddle with the speed settings on the remote. He’s discovered that Spock shows preternatural adaptability when it comes to performing admirably in the face of foreign-object penetration, so really it’s only fair that Jim make this a little bit of a challenge. And this thing has a lot of settings.  He read the leaflet; it was like one of those little guides that comes with a box of truffles.

There’s a long, slow roll that he imagines is pretty similar to the way he likes to fuck Spock when they’ve got time, hips moving in lazy circles until Spock ruts back on him in frustration. And a pattern of staccato bursts that approximates the frenzied build to climax, or the way Jim fucks him in a utility closet in Engineering or in sickbay or under phaser fire or some other time when sex is a spectacularly bad idea but they do it anyway, all teeth and tongue and bruising grip. And there’s a sweet, steady, drawn-out pulse that Jim likes best of all.

And the random setting.

At the end of the day, Spock practically canters off the bridge on the balls of his feet. Jim busies himself for a minute, scribbling a note on a PADD, briefly confirming flight plans with Sulu. He tries his best to walk slowly and nonchalantly to his quarters. It wouldn’t do to run headlong through the ship’s corridors, which is what he really wants to do. Control, after all. 

There’s a little blinking light above his door that tells him his quarters are occupied. Of course they are. He keys in to find Spock standing ramrod-straight in the middle of the room, eyes locked on the opposite wall. He’s still in his uniform, though Jim notes that he's barefoot, and there’s a fine sheen of sweat on his brow and upper lip. He’s hard, no doubt about it, and by the looks of it he’s been hard since about five minutes into Alpha shift.

Jim paces slowly across the room to stand eye to eye with his first officer. Spock’s eyes look slightly out of focus, like he’s concentrating on a point off in the distance. It’s the look he gets when he’s meditating, and Jim thinks with a start that he must have been trying to stave this off for hours. As Jim steps in front of him, he snaps back with a blink.

"Mr. Spock.”

"Captain…I…” His voice is ragged.

" Today’s report from the science department on the bacterium we found on Epsilon V. What are its implications for-“ He’s cut off with what can only be described as a whine.

Spock’s eyes have that glazed look again, and he sways slightly. Jim reaches out to steady him, allowing his hand to run up Spock’s shoulder to his cheek, thumb sliding over the lower lip, swollen and bruised green. He’s been biting it all day to keep from crying out, Jim realizes, and he’s instantly got a semi. Spock leans into the contact and keens again, canting his hips forward reflexively.

Jim had intended to draw this out, to make his first officer ask for it, but that whine is a plea if he’s ever heard one. He’s certainly never heard Spock make a sound like that. It makes him forget all about the carefully scripted scene he’s got planned out in his head, because right now, in this moment, Spock is desperate.

Jim speaks softly. “You performed very satisfactorily today, Mr. Spock."

Spock blushes at that, casting his eyes down. Jim reaches out and crooks his index finger under Spock’s chin, gently lifting until their eyes are locked again. Jim leans in for a kiss and Spock opens to him hungrily, moaning around Jim’s tongue. He’s so hot, burning up, and Jim needs to see him, all of him, right now.

 "Take your shirt off.”

Spock gets his blues and his black undershirt off in one clean motion and lets them fall at his feet. 

"Now your pants. Everything.

Jim motions to his first officer’s waist and Spock immediately goes for his fly, removing pants and briefs, gasping as his cock springs free. He steps out of his pooled clothing and stands at attention again, hands clasped at his lower back for want of something to do with them. Jim can see his chest rising and falling and imagines his heart thrumming in time, pumping more of that green flush into his extremities, the only signifiers of Spock’s distress.

Jim paces casually around Spock, looking at him appraisingly. He stops at his back, leaning in to press a kiss to the knob of bone at the nape of Spock’s neck. Jim runs his palm down the side of Spock’s body to cup his ass. Spock pants.

"I want to see it,” Jim says, his voice low.  “I want to see what a good job you’ve done on your assignment. Show me.”

He leads Spock to the bed, patting the mattress lightly. Spock immediately arranges himself, hiking his ass in the air as if presenting it for inspection. Which of course, thinks Jim, he is. 

Jim sits back on his heels, the better to take in the view.  Spock is fucking breathtaking, and however long this thing between them lasts, he doesn’t think he’ll ever quite get over the little exclamation points popping up in his brain as his neurons start firing over the fact that holy shit, this is Spock and he _gets to do this again_.

"Yeah, that’s right, arch your back for me.”  He kneels behind Spock, getting up close and personal with his old buddy the MGX. The plug is shiny and silver and has a delicate loop flaring from the base. Right now that loop is the only thing visible, protruding from the cleft of Spock’s ass. Jim hooks his index finger through it and tugs gently, twisting. Spock moans, long and low. 

"I’ve been thinking about you all day, how fucking hot you’d look with this in your tight ass.  On the bridge, leaning over your console…giving reports, leading meetings, all while you were being held open, ready for me. I could have bent you over and fucked you any time today, couldn’t I? Hmmm?” When Spock is less than forthcoming, Jim gives him a little smack directly over the plug.

Spock makes that whining sound again and nods. 

"And how did that make you feel, Mr. Spock? Did you like it?”

"I….yes,” Spock whispers.

"Tell me how it made you feel.”

"I felt…exposed. I felt as though every member of staff could tell with one look…” he trails off, shaking his head. 

"What could they tell, hmm, Spock?”

"Jim, I cannot-“

" Shh, yes, you can.” Jim leans down so he’s whispering directly into Spock’s ear. He presses a kiss to the lobe. One hand is working the butt plug in and out of Spock, and the noise the toy makes is truly obscene.  “Tell me.”  Jim moves his free hand around and takes hold of Spock’s weeping erection, and the Vulcan nearly sobs with relief.

" It seems…highly unlikely that I was able to successfully conceal my state of arousal for the duration of Alpha shift. I…I thought one look at me must be sufficient to ascertain my proximity to- _ah, Jim_\- to loss of control.” 

"Mmmm. Keep talking.”

"It is difficult to describe.” Spock’s voice is soft, quavering. It’s as if he’s barely holding back the floodgates of some great roiling ocean, as if describing what he feels in language will unleash it.  In moments like these Jim almost understands the allure Surak’s teachings must have held for those ancient Vulcans.  It must be frightening.

"I thought that one look, one touch would undo me. It was difficult to concentrate on my duties. I found my thoughts wandering often.”

"What did you think about?” Jim has found that Spock responds best to direct questions. It’s the whole not-lying thing. He also suspects it’s a little bit the Captain thing, so he keeps a slight edge to his voice that indicates _a less than thorough answer will be insufficient, Mr. Spock.  _

"I found myself unable to remain mindful of the present moment. My thoughts raced ahead to the end of our shift, how I would report to you in your quarters. How I must be at attention and ready for you when you returned for…debriefing. I did not know how long you would be; I saw you remain on the bridge to speak with Lieutenant Uhura and Mr. Sulu, and I confess that I…believed waiting for a span of time longer than the four minutes, thirty and nine-tenths seconds it typically takes you to return to your quarters from the bridge to be unacceptable.”

 “Unacceptable, Mr. Spock?”

"Perhaps impossible would be more accurate. Captain.” 

"Yeah, you were hard for me all day, weren’t you, Spock?” Jim smacks him lightly on the ass; the butt plug quivers and Spock gasps, eyes closing involuntarily. Jim glances down at his partner’s cock and licks his lips at the sight of it, dusky olive and so, so hard.

 “Yes, Jim.”

 “Hard, and waiting. You’ve been thinking about this, about being here with me, all day.”

 Spock swallows. “Yes.”

 “Do you want me to fuck you now, Spock?”

In front of him, Spock drops his head, almost imperceptibly. Jim watches a fresh flush of green work its way across the nape of the Vulcan’s neck and up to his ears. Jim has touched, licked, bitten those ears when they’re flushed like this and he knows how they burn. Spock speaks.  
“Yes, Jim,” he says. And a little softer, with some of that same whine Jim heard earlier: “Please.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice. Jim moans at the sight he’s taking in, Spock on his knees, ass in the air, the sculpted silver handle of the plug winking in the dull 55% glow of Jim’s quarters.

Jim grabs a bottle of lube from the nightstand and moves back behind Spock, running a hand from the small of his back to his tailbone, hooking a finger around the plug’s handle and slowly pulling it free.

God, it’s so lewd, the sound it makes as it pulls out of Spock’s body. Almost as lewd as the sound Spock makes, a low cry of loss and relief and need. Spock is so open he barely needs any preparation. Jim lubes himself up and lines his cock up, sliding just the head in with the slightly hysterical thought that the plug was much thicker. He stays there, still, waiting, but then Spock makes a desperate sound and rocks his hips back once, twice, and holy fucking shit he’s fucking himself all the way back onto Jim’s cock. Jim’s balls smack Spock’s ass and he nearly comes right then, digging his fingers into the flesh of Spock’s hips and biting down hard on his lip to win back some control.

“Jim, _please_.” And Jim laughs out loud, because the faint pleading edge to Spock’s voice has been replaced with thinly veiled annoyance. “Yeah, alright,” he says, but he can’t even try and feign annoyance right back because he’s smiling so big.  He sets a steady pace, hard and deep, reaching around to take hold of Spock and milk his dick teasingly. He knows how Spock likes it and his rhythm is just shy of what he knows will send the Vulcan over the edge. It’s driving Spock crazy. He jerks his whole body back and forth, riding Jim, hands splayed shoulder-width on the mattress for leverage.

And, Jim thinks, it’s a lesson in control for him too, because Spock has had a damn butt plug up his ass all day, a hairsbreadth away from coming in his pants on the fucking bridge of the Enterprise, and now he’s got Jim’s cock in him but fuck if he’s not running the show because as much as Jim wants to draw this out he can’t keep it up like this. Spock shifts forward, back, forward again until his body is just barely kissing the head of Jim’s cock. He holds himself like that for half a minute (fuck, thirty-seven seconds, Jim’s actually counting) before pushing himself back decisively, sheathing Jim.

That’s it, Jim can’t take it, has to give in and give Spock what he wants. He’s totally lost control now, fucking him hard and fast and matching his pace with the hand on Spock’s dick. He works Spock frenetically, and he doesn’t really know how clearly Spock can read him through the press of their bodies, so the words spill out of his mouth instead. _Fuck _and _hot_ and _just like this_ and _so much_ and _yes yes yes yes. _When he comes his eyes are closed, flashes of red and yellow behind his lids, and he drives all the way into Spock and stills as Spock shudders around him. 

Jim presses a kiss on the hard line of Spock’s jaw, and instead of rolling to the side, away, Spock lifts himself up just a bit and twists around in a way that really can’t be comfortable and kisses Jim on the mouth.

 Later, the lights are at 5%, just enough so that they don’t break their necks if they need to get up in the middle of the night, just enough so that Jim can see Spock’s pulse beat at his pale throat. He matches his inhales and exhales to Spock’s, even and rhythmic, and remembers Spock talking about learning to meditate. It’s been a few months, Jim thinks, and they’re getting pretty good at reading each other.


End file.
